


Was it Really Just Lunch?

by Thatauthoryouhate



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Blue Balls, Cock Tease, Denial, F/M, Misunderstandings, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29673801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatauthoryouhate/pseuds/Thatauthoryouhate
Summary: After a delightful lunch with Artoria Pendragon, Mordred grows suspicious.
Relationships: Mordred | Saber of Red/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Was it Really Just Lunch?

“As always, your company has been rather pleasant,” Artoria says with a smile as you escort her to the door. 

“I do enjoy our little lunches,” you admit with a chuckle, doing your utmost to not ruin the atmosphere by looking at her impressive bust, and failing miserably. Of course, you're never quite as subtle as you think. 

“You are my master, I will not chastise you for looking,” she begins, a smirk finding its way to her lips. “Or, would you like more than just to look?”

Already you feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you vehemently shake your head. Artoria is far from unattractive, and anyone would be lucky to lay with her. It's just you have your eyes firmly fixed on someone else, and you're certain they would have no interest in you if you have physical relations with Artoria. 

“Then feel free to simply look,” she says with a confident wink, before finally leaving your company with a care-free wave. 

Once out of sight, you close your door, and take a deep calming breath. Its amazing just how different each form of Artoria's can be, and it's not the first time the Lancer has toyed with your heart-rate. No doubt it won't be the last either. 

Still, there will be time to dwell on such things later. For now, it's time to clear up. Heading to the small table you used to entertain her, you gather the two small plates. All that remains upon them is the crumbs from the simple sandwiches you made. Not a big deal by any means, but still something that must be taken care of. 

Taking your time, you bring the plates to the nearby sink. A firm knock sounds from the door, and you glance towards it. You're not expecting any more visitors to your room today, and you're certain Artoria took all her belongings with her. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you approach the door. The knocking sounds again, sounding all the more impatient. Not wanting to agitate your visitor any further, you open the door. 

Standing there clad in her usual skimpy red outfit, is none other than Mordred. She dons a scowl across her face, and seems anything but amused. 

“Ah, Mordred. What can I do for you?” you ask, doing your best not to appear nervous. 

“What were you, and father doing just now? She seemed rather happy,” Mordred asks through grit teeth. 

Your heart skips a beat. Enjoying the odd lunch with Artoria is far from a rare occurrence, so why is Mordred acting weird this time? “J-just lunch?” you stutter, sounding quite unconvincing even to your own ears. 

It seems she's not entirely convinced by your words, and decides to enter the room. She pushes past you with ease, not that you could stop her if you wanted to. With a sigh, you close the door, before trailing Mordred. She stops by the small table you cleared not moments ago, giving it an appraising gaze. 

“Doesn't look like you had lunch,” she notes, still exuding an intimidating aura. 

You're quick to point towards the nearby sink, plates still sitting in it. “I was trying to clean up when you knocked.”

A dismissive snort is all the response you get, and she marches towards the sink. With little care, she picks up the plates one at a time, giving them a quick look over. Traces of crumbs still stick to them, and you're confident it will be enough to prove your words true. 

Another snort. “Could be from breakfast,” she notes, and the plates are quickly returned to the sink. 

“You really think I'm that messy?” you ask in disbelief, which Mordred promptly ignores. 

“Do you know what I think you were doing?” she asks, her eyes narrowing onto you. 

“I really don't,” you answer. 

“I think, you were performing a private Mana-transfer with father,” she begins, her muscles seeming to tighten the longer she speaks. “While I admit father is worthy of further power, I cannot allow you to sully him in such a manner!”

Blinking, you miss the second it takes for Mordred to draw her sword, and you hold your hands up in surrender. Honestly, even if that is what you did; it hardly merits this response.

“I did no such thing!” you're quick to protest. 

“Really? Then show me your Mana transfer device to prove it!” she fires back.

Mana transfer device? There's no such thing, unless she means the chamber Da Vinci allows you to use. 

“Err, Mordred. That's not something you can just move about,” you inform her. 

“Don't try to fool me!” she yells, performing a flourish with her blade to aim the tip towards you. “Pull down your trousers,” she commands, brokering no argument. 

Seeing little else in the way of options, you place your hands onto the hem of your trousers. Shooting her a quick, questioning glance; you sigh when she only gestures for you to continue. Nothing else for it, you inelegantly pull your trousers down to rest around your ankles. 

Heat is once again centred around your cheeks, and you look towards the closest wall. It's hard to tell if Mordred has decided that you have indeed been honest with your dealings, and you can only wait in the deafening silence.

Finally, she breaks it. “Alright, now pull them down.”

You snap to look upon Mordred again, and her face is that of a stone. It seems she's quite serious, and it is your turn to grit your teeth. The desire to argue is strong, but what are you going to do against your armed servant? A servant who's made it no secret she'll fight whoever she sees fit at that. 

Deciding to simply get things over with, your hands find purchase on the hem of your briefs. Not bothering to check this time, you repeat your earlier motion. Rising back up, you now have both your trousers, and briefs around your ankles. 

Mordred speaks up instantly. “It's soft.”

“Of course it's soft!” you yell, unable to keep silent on the matter. 

She actually flinches at your words, her sword lowering just a little. “I-is it meant to be soft?”

You look at her dumbly, and the pout she pulls causes you to believe that she is actually honest with her question. “Do you even know why you're looking at my co-” you stop yourself, shaking your head. “Why you asked me to strip, even.”

A spark of life shoots through Mordred's eyes as they widen. “Right!” she cheers, closing the gap between you. Involuntarily, your muscles tighten as Mordred squats down in front of you. She thrusts her face into your crotch, stopping only inches from your flaccid cock.

Mordred mutters something, and you're not sure if it's even words. Every sound she makes is accompanied by an exhalation of breath, ticking against your length. Through force of will more than anything, you remain flaccid. 

“Ah, I need to touch you,” she says suddenly, and her sword hits the floor with a clang. 

Her hands now free, she wastes little time in setting them on their new task. You take in a sharp breath as her warm hands gropes you freely. One hand lightly squeezes at your balls, a little too firmly, but you keep silent. The other offers a softer touch, as it takes your shaft into its grip. 

Blood rushes to it in an instant, and you feel yourself hardening in her grasp. Mordred seems to not care, and settle into feeling every inch. She lingers particularly around your tip, grazing beneath your head multiple times. 

“No residue, guess you haven't transferred any Mana lately!” she praises, sounding quite proud of you. 

“Thanks?” you respond dumbly. 

Mordred's grip around you ceases, and she is quick to grab her sword as she rises to her feet. “Yeah, guess I should've trusted father more.”

Already she's moving to the door. “W-wait!” you call.

She stops, turning around to face you. “Yeah?”

“You're not actually just gonna leave me like this are you?” you ask, and when she gives you a questioning tilt of her head, you gesture to your hardened cock. 

“No thanks! I don't need any more power,” she boasts, showing off her teeth with a grin. “Let a weaker servant get a boost! Later master!” she calls, heading off without a care in the world. 

As she leaves the room, you set about making yourself decent again. Soon enough, you're fully dressed once more, though both aroused, and bothered. One day you'll have to get her back for this, but for now you need someone to have fun with. 

Heading out the room yourself, you head towards where the bulk of your servants reside. Honestly, any servant will more than satiate your desires, but you silently hope to bump into Medusa as you prowl the halls.


End file.
